Noctuary
by Antithesister
Summary: Cynthia is a 22-year-old studying pyschology. When she encounters Saix, she takes an interest in him and his apparent lack of emotion and begins to attempt to understand him. Eventually, she develops feelings for her subject. Unrequited Saix/oc
1. I

Author's Note: Hello! This is my first story, mostly centered around Saix. Any reviews or words of advice would be much appreciated. Thank you and enjoy!(:

Honestly, I never did have a liking for bars. I don't really like drinking, and when it comes to flirting, I am hopelessly oblivious. The fact that Jessica and Alex could convince me to come at all was almost miraculous. At first, I was reluctant to come, but they wore me down, insisting I come. I am a bit of a loner. Every now and then I have to make myself go out; remind my friends that I'm still alive and still care about them. They're quite great, actually. I am lucky to have met them. I tell them sometimes, but I don't think their importance to me ever really hits. I guess my aloofness has it downsides.

When I meet them outside the bar, Alex runs up and hugs me. I smile and return the gesture. It's always nice to feel that someone is happy to see you. Jessica lags a few feet behind, but not because she isn't happy to see me. She just isn't as affectionate as Alex. I mumble a hello into Alex's hair. "Ah! I'm so happy you came!" I grin now. Alex's ebullience can make anyone smile. "Hey babe," I call out to Jessica. She smiles now. She knows she's the only person I'd ever call babe. It fits for her, with her somewhat dirty-minded sense of humor. She kind of enjoys it. "Hey, Cynthia." I go ahead and pull her into a hug, too. I may be somewhat aloof, but I'm still affectionate towards my friends. I examine their clothes. They both look great. Alex is in a bright blue strapless dress with orange heels. The ridiculously bright contrast works, because it's Alex. It fits her bright personality well. Jessica is in a sexier outfit. She wears and tight-but-not-trashy red dress and black booties. We walk in. Alex quickly darts to a table near the door and sits down, indicating we should follow.

Jessica and I immediately scan the room, looking for anybody attractive. It's pretty busy tonight. Even I must admit that it's a bit of a thrill to feel the men in the room scan your body. It is slightly flattering, even. "Holy crap, Cynthia, there are so many hot guys," says Jessica. She's obviously enjoying the attention her curve-hugging dress warrants. I nod absently. I'm still looking for somebody. "What, do you not agree?" "No, she's just picky," chirps Alex. I would object, but it's true. I spot a man sitting at the bar with striking blue hair that piques my interest. "Hey, do you guys see that guy over there?" "Which one, the tall one with reddish hair or that guy with blue hair?," asks Alex. "The one with the blue hair." "Yeah! Why, do you think he's cute?" "Yeah, actually." And I do. It's kind of surprising, even to me. I usually like guys with sort of classic beauty. You know, symmetrical features, nice build, all that. He does have a nice build, but his features are anything but traditional. I notice he has pierced ears and a scar shaped like an X directly between his eyes. His hair is long, reaching below his shoulders, and his ears appear to be pointed. Somehow, despite his eccentric features, he has an air of responsibility and intelligence about him. He wears a simple white button down and black pants. He holds himself well. I notice how put together he looks and serious he looks. "Hmm… I could see that. He seems sort of mysterious." When Jessica takes notice of him, she shares her opinion. "He's sort of scary." "He is not," I object. "He's just intimidating, is all." She laughs. "You would pick the guy with the blue hair and the X scar." "What is that supposed to mean?" "Nothing. You just have exotic tastes." "I totally do not!" Alex decides to join in the banter. "You gotta let your freak flag fly somewhere," She says with a wink. They're just teasing me now. I roll my eyes, but I do a bad job looking unamused. After all, they're kind of right. "You should go talk to him." I balk at Jessica's suggestion. "…Really?" "I don't see why not." I ponder for a moment. "Come on, Cyn, what's the worst thing that could happen? You can always come back here," chimes Alex. With much encouragement, I push back my cowardliness and walk over to the bar.

When I slide down next to him, he barely takes notice of me. He glances over, then resumes concentrating on his drink. "Hello," I say in a friendly-but-hopefully-not-overly-enthusiastic voice. "Hello." It does not seem like he'll be much of a talker. "I'm Cynthia." I try to guess his age. He doesn't look much older than me. I assume he is about 26, which would make him four years my senior. "…Saix." He could not seem less interested. Just then, the bartender gives me a drink. "Oh, I'm sorry, but I didn't order this." He tells me it's from a man sitting further down. I flash a smile in that general direction as a sign of thanks. Funny how I can attract the attention of the man sitting, like, six stools away but not the man sitting one foot to my left. "So, Saix," at the mention of his name, he sits up a bit but, but I think it's more out of politeness than genuine interest. "Are you here with anyone?" He nods. I flush slightly, embarrassed that I've been pitifully attempting to flirt with a man with a date. He senses my embarrassment. "…But we aren't together." He points to a gorgeous blonde woman with really unique bangs that stick up like antennae. She's in the corner, being chatted up by at least five men. She appears to be enjoying herself very much, savoring the men's admiration. I give him a questioning look. "I'm just keeping her out of trouble." His voice is completely monotonous. He doesn't seem to be having a very good time. "So you're babysitting her?" He almost looks amused at my choice of words. "It's a favor for a friend." It's a weird favor, but I decide not to question him about her anymore. I notice that his eyes are a deep amber color. They're at once slightly creepy and beautiful. He has a slight smile on his face when I realize I've just been gawking at him. I blush, feeling embarrassed once again. "Hey, baby," coos an unfamiliar voice. I turn around to see that guy that bought me a drink earlier. "Oh, hi." I hope I don't seem too standoffish, but I really don't want to talk to him. I start playing with my long blonde hair; I want a distraction from this man. The way he looks at my figure makes me a bit uncomfortable. I notice him unabashedly staring at my chest. "What's your name?" He looks to be at least eight years older than me. Creepy… "Do you mind?" Saix interrupts us. I'm disproportionately grateful for this. I don't want to make awkward small talk with this thirty-something man while he obviously tries to look down my shirt.

Jessica was right; Saix is scary. Scary enough, at least. The creepy guy backs off. "You seemed uncomfortable," he explains. "Thank you," I breathe. "That was almost kind of you." "Almost?" "Forgive me for saying this, but you don't really seem to be the type to dole out random acts of kindness." He smirks. "Maybe I'm a just a nice guy," he says in mock indignation. "Maybe. Maybe I judged you too quickly." I'm intrigued now. None of his words seem to carry any emotion. I want to learn more about him.

A few moments later, my curiosity gets the best of me. "Do you want to get out of here?" He almost looks surprised by my abruptness. He raises an eyebrow. "To talk," I add. "Ah. To talk. Of course." "Really?" I don't even try to hide my surprise. He nods. He has that same amused smirk on his face. He intensely reminds me of somebody, but I can't quite recall whom. We stand up to leave. He is taller than I expected; he is about two and a half inches taller than me in my four inch heels, and I'm fairly tall for a woman. I notice his eyes skim down the length of my body. My slinky dark green camisole and black pencil skirt follow the lines of my figure closely. There is something almost predatory about his eyes, yet it doesn't make me uncomfortable. A particular point of interest for him is the spikes that are fixed to the back of my shoes. "I like to add a touch of aggression to all of my outfits," I explain. He gives me another questioning look. "I'm moonlighting as a fashion student. I find that the whole innocent thing doesn't quite suit me." For the first time all night, he actually seems interested in me. Not as some girl he picked up at a bar, but as a person. He waves at the woman he was supposed to be watching as he walks out. When Alex and Jessica see me leaving with him, Alex is visibly excited for me and Jessica looks proud. She mouths "nice" with a wink as we leave together. He pretends not to notice as he casually holds the door for me. His amber eyes linger on my dark green ones for a few seconds and I return his gaze. "Thank you." "You're quite welcome." As we walk out, he trails a few feet behind, but quickly catches up. "So, where are we going?" "Honestly? I don't know yet." I smile now. I'm reveling in the spontaneity I seem to have magically inherited tonight. He smiles a slight smile, too. Something is off with his, though. I take his returning the gesture to be a good sign. I feel a twinge of desire now. Somehow, I want to make him happy.


	2. II

We walk in complete silence. It isn't an awkward silence. I just don't feel the need for any words. After spending hours with all my ridiculously noisy peers at school, this is refreshing. I really don't like attending two schools at once, but my parents insisted that I study psychology just in case my fashion career doesn't work out. It's not that I mind the curriculum. I quite like psychology. I would just prefer to be sleeping. Saix's voice ends my idle thought. "We should turn through here." He gestures to a narrow alley. I peer into it. Honestly, it doesn't look particularly safe. "Trust me. I know a shortcut." "…To where?" "You'll see." I quickly run through some of the possible events that could happen in such an alley. As soon as I look back up a Saix, he smirks. "You suggest we leave the bar to go walking around aimlessly in the city and now you won't even trust me enough to walk through an alley?" He's got me there. I start walking down the questionable alley. He follows. He walks much faster than me; I'm practically jogging to keep up. "So where are we going?" He turns back around for a second to respond. "It's a surprise." He whirls back around and picks up the pace a bit. "Hey! I can't run in these!" He decides to be nice and slow down a bit. Even after slowing down, he is still ahead of me. I can only follow him by the light his azure hair seems to emit. When he abruptly stops walking in front of me, I walk straight into him. He doesn't even budge. "Sorry," I mumble. He looks amused. "It's quite all right." I look at him intently. I don't even care that he can see how blatantly I'm examining him. He has an impossibly perfect complexion; His eyes are actually quite beautiful. "Cynthia?" "Hm?" He looks very amused now. He even lets out a chuckle. "Your arms?" Much to my embarrassment, I have wrapped my arms around his and am clinging to him. I can feel my face redden and I laugh a bit, trying to mask my slight humiliation. "Sorry about that." I untangle myself. He nods. His attention is now on something else. I glance around, trying to find whatever he's fixated on. "We're here."

The tiny alley has led to drop off that offers an amazing view of the sky. "It's beautiful… The stars are more visible than I've ever seen in the city." Out the corner of my eye, I see him nod. It seems that he's entranced by the night sky. After staring at the stunning view, I notice the absence of the moon. "New moon?" He nods again. "Saix?" He resurfaces from his trance. He focuses on me now. The intensity of his gaze is almost unnerving. "How did you find this place?" I can see that he is pondering about what to say. "By accident," he pauses. "I found it while working." What kind of job requires one to run around in back alleys? "What do you do?" "I do whatever has to be done." Before I can complain about the vagueness of his answer, he decides to change the subject. "So what do you do?" "I'm a student. I'm studying psychology and fashion." He nods politely. "Why both?" "Well… I've always been interested in both, and I wanted to pursue fashion, but my parents decided that psychology was a more stable career, so now I'm pursuing both." His gaze shifts from me to the sky. I also look back at the sky. It's cloudless, and all the stars are shining so brightly it's like they're fighting for my attention. It really is captivating. "And which do you prefer?" I have to think about his question for a bit. I've never thought about it before. "Fashion. Both have their advantages. Psychology is easier and more… constant. Fashion is kind of all over the place. It's constantly changing. But still, I prefer fashion." Neither of us has even bothered to look away from the stars. "Why is psychology easier?" I turn back around to look at him. "Have you ever tried to sew?" I see him smile slightly. "Ha… No, I suppose I haven't."

He's still staring off into the distance, so I take this opportunity to look him over again. We're both standing up against a wall. I'm leaning against it; he stands perfectly straight. I can't help but notice what good posture he has. He looks so much like a guy I knew in highschool. When he finally notices me staring at him, I'm struggling to remember the guy's name. I decide to tell him what I was thinking about. "You remind me so much of a guy I knew in highschool, but I can't remember his name…" He stares at me for a few seconds. It appears he's also trying to remember something. "Was his name Isa?" His usual monotonous tone is replaced with a more serious one. "Yes! That is exactly the name I was trying to recall." I look him up and down once more. "Isa," I repeat. "You look so much like him, except older. And I don't think he had your scars, either." He reaches up to touch his scars, and I feel a random surge of sadness for him. "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't bring up any painful memories." He shakes his head. "So, Saix… How did you know his name was Isa?" "I'm told that we look alike a lot," he replies. "So, you went to school with him?" I nod. "He was a senior when I was a freshman, so I never really saw him much. We had mythology together." Mythology was my favorite class as a freshman. Isa sat behind me. I laugh to myself a little bit when I remember how all my friends in class thought he was so serious and intimidating and how he always said 'thank you' whenever I passed papers back to him. He even held the door for me a couple times, and that was practically unheard of for a highschool student. Isa was a nice guy. Serious, but nice. "What was he like?" "I don't really remember much, it was a while ago," I trail off while thinking of things to add. "But I remember that he was usually serious, and laidback. And I didn't know him well, but he was nice. All of the girls I knew in the class were kind of intimidated by him, but I sat in front of him and he was always polite. Also, he was smart. Again, I didn't know him very well, but I could tell." The way he's looking at me now is much more intense than his previous glances. "Do you remember anything else about him? What led you to conclude that he was intelligent?" "Not really. We didn't know each other well at all. And you can just tell when somebody is intelligent. They choose their words more carefully, or carry themselves well. Isa was like that." He seems satisfied with that response. "Also, Isa got really good grades." I laugh at myself a little. Saix looks back at me and I can see the little flicker of amusement in his eyes.

"You really like asking questions, don't you?" "Do you have a problem with questions?" "Of course not! I love answering questions about myself. It is human nature, isn't?" I smile at him again. "Anyways, why were you so curious about Isa?" He pauses for a moment. "I've been told that I remind people of him several times. I just wanted to know why." He turns back to face the sky again. I join him once more in staring at the inky sky. It's gotten quite cloudy now. The stars are now mostly obscured. "Saix?" He directs his attention to me. "When we were leaving the bar, that wasn't a real smile, was it?" He says nothing. "It's okay if it wasn't. I just don't want you to think that you have to smile around me if you don't feel like it." I feel a sudden gust of wind, and I curse myself for not dressing more warmly. "Cynthia?" I turn to face Saix. "Thank you," he says quietly. Immediately afterward, I feel a raindrop land on my shoulder. "It's beginning to rain. We should go." He spends a few more seconds looking at the few uncovered stars, and then we both begin walking through the narrow alleyway. After a few more steps, he wraps one of his arms around me. "You were cold," he adds as an explanation.

When we finally reach my apartment building, we're both soaked. The rain is pouring down so violently I can barely hear anything. I end up having to yell at him just to make conversation. "Thank you, Saix!" I'm not entirely certain he can hear me, but he gives a polite nod anyway. He doesn't smile now, but it's okay. I don't think that he is unhappy. He's an interesting person. I want to know more about him. "WAIT ONE SECOND!" His head snaps up. I'm sure he heard me this time. He nods once more. I rush into the building a dart around looking for a pen and some paper. As soon as I find a sheet of paper, I scrawl my name and phone number on it. I walk as quickly as possible to the exit and hand him the paper. The storm has ended as abruptly as it started. "Thank you for putting up with all of this," I breathe. His wet hair is flattened against his face, and somehow the dark blue juxtaposed with the amber makes his eyes seem even more vivid. His eyes look so animalistic; it's almost ironic that they belong to one that seems so civilized. "You're welcome." I hand him my phone number. "Goodnight." I smile and turn to walk back inside. I'm tired. "Goodnight, Cynthia," he says quietly. As I fall asleep, I hope he doesn't have to walk too far. It's threatening to rain again.


	3. III

I'm running late, as per usual. Today is Sunday. I was supposed to be meeting Alex and Jessica about twenty minutes ago. Naturally, I'm just now leaving. I overslept. I can't help it; I just love sleeping. My "getting ready" process this morning consisted of washing my face, brushing my teeth as fast as humanly possible, throwing on some black jeans and a t-shirt, slipping into some studded ballet flats and swiping on mascara frantically. As soon as I'm out the door, I call Jessica. I'm somewhat relieved when her voice has no hint of annoyance in it. "Hey," I breathe. "Are you and Alex already there?" I wait a second for her to respond, but since I'm walking pretty quickly through the halls of my apartment building, I'm not really paying attention. I listen to her say something that sounds like a random mass of words to me while running down the stairs. "I'm sorry, Jess, could you repeat that?" "Yes. We're here. Where are you?" "Hm? Oh right. I'm really sorry, I overslept but now I'm on my way." On Sundays we sometimes go to get breakfast at this diner that serves really good waffles. I think that they've gradually gotten used to my oversleeping on weekends. "Kay. Hurry up! I don't want to wait for you for an eternity." Immediately after she finishes her sentence she hangs up on me. I don't mind. The solitary walk there will give me more time to gather my thoughts. Lately a lot of them have been about him…

By the time I get to the diner I've kept them waiting for about forty minutes. Alex is dressed in her usual brights and Jessica is sitting in the booth across from her wearing skinny jeans, lace up boots, and a plaid button down. I greet them both and apologize for my tardiness, although this is really just the usual for us. I slide down the booth to sit next to Alex, who in return greets me with a hug. I look up at Jessica to find that she's smirking at me. "Let me guess: you want to know what happened on Friday." She grins at me. "Did you take him home?" I laugh at the implications. The thought of me going from not having a boyfriend for 2 years and all of a sudden having sex with a mysterious, handsome stranger amuses me. "Cynthia. That is beyond awesome! I'm totally jealous." Jessica apparently mistook my hahaha-that's-ridiculous laugh for a hahaha-what-a-stupid-question-of-course-I-did laugh. "Yeah, I didn't sleep with him." I laugh at how quickly her face goes from a proud expression to one of mild disappointment. "Well, not to pry or anything," Alex begins "But did you kiss him?" "Nope!" Both of them look at me blank with blank expressions. Jessica breaks the slight pause. "So. What did you do?" "This might sound weird, but we did absolutely nothing but talk and walk around." Alex smiles at me. "That's nice. You must have really hit it off." Those words seem so inappropriate. "Hm… I wouldn't really say that. We just sort of talked. Actually, he's sort of fascinating, in a quiet way." At this, Jessica's head snaps up. "You know who he reminds me of? That really serious but hot guy from our mythology class." "Isa." "Yes! That was his name. He sat behind you, didn't he?" I nod. Interesting how quickly she made that conclusion. The resemblance between Saix and Isa really is uncanny. "Jessica, you're so right! I wish that I'd talked to him. He was really hot. Cynthia, why didn't you talk to him? You had the perfect seat!" I can't really think of an excuse. "Well… I did, sort of. I just didn't talk to him that much. I mean, he was really polite, and obviously he was attractive, but he just seemed really tired all of the time. I felt like I was bothering him." She both let this sink in for a second. "Yeah, I could see that," responds Jessica. "He had sort of an unapproachable vibe." Right after Jessica finishes speaking we're interrupted by a portly waitress. We all order the usual blueberry waffles.

When we're done scarfing down our breakfasts, Alex proceeds to ask me where we went and what we talked about. "He led me through an alley to a drop-off with a ridiculously good view of the sky. It was really pretty, actually." "…That actually sounds kind of romantic," states Jessica. It never occurred to me to think that it was a romantic spot. He didn't really strike me as a sucker for romance. "Cynthia, what did you talk about?" Alex asks, somewhat impatiently. "Not that much. He just asked me a lot of questions about, you know, school and stuff. And I brought up how much he looked like Isa. Apparently he gets that a lot." "That's cool," mumbles Jessica. "Do you think you're going to see him again?" This question surprises me. I hadn't thought about whether or not I'd see him again, I had just sort of assumed that he would call or something. "Well, I don't really know. I gave him my number, so hopefully." And I want to see him again. I really do. The waitress returns with the bill. We pay, we say goodbye, and we go our separate ways. For nearly the entire walk home I'm thinking about whether or not Saix will call.

I am amazed at how I can do so little and be so tired. The most productive thing I did all day was eat breakfast with Jessica and Alex. I suppose that going to a normal college while also taking an advanced sewing class at night has taken its toll… It's 9:30, and I'm about to take a bath. I reach over in the tub and begin to run a bath. I love listening to the water fill the tub; I find it so relaxing. I let my hair down and stare at myself in the bathroom mirror while combing it. My thoughts drift back to Saix. As I look at myself, I can't help but be envious of his beauty. Most people consider me pretty. I am slim and tall, with symmetrical features and blonde hair. I don't have low self-esteem, but I can't help but think that my beauty can't compare to his at all. My eyes are a moody grey-green, but compared to Saix's amber ones, they're dull and uninteresting. I pride myself on having good skin, but Saix's skin is so perfect it practically glows. Even a prominent X shaped scar on his face fails to mar his beauty. I undress slowly and slip into the hot water, breathing deeply. I sit and listen to the water fall into the bathtub for what feels like an eternity, then turn off the faucet when I can slide so the water reaches my neck. I sink further underwater so my long hair can float freely. The hot water enveloping me is very calming. When I'm done with my bath, I put on a black silk nightgown and throw myself on the bed.

Sometime after I doze off, I hear tapping noises. I really don't want to go check on it. Rather than actually get up out off bed, I roll over and burrow under the blankets. Whatever the tapping noise is, it seemingly gets louder after I rollover. I try ignoring it, but it just gets more and more annoying. I pull the covers down and look at my clock. It's 3:24. Finally I just decide to go up and check on the sound. I walk straight over to the window that leads to the fire escape. I've hardly even opened my eyes when I get there. Immediately afterwards, the noise stops. "Of course," I mumble. Just after I turn back around to return to bed, it starts up again. I spin back around and open my eyes fully so I can open my window. I nearly jump when I notice the silhouette of a man standing on my fire escape. Whoever it is, they seem to notice how freaked out I am and raises both arms to show me they're not carrying anything. After staring at the figure more closely, I realize that it looks vaguely familiar. I saunter over to my window and begin opening it slowly. "…Saix?" The figure nods at me, or at least I think it does. It's hard to make out in the inky blackness. "Can I come in?" I just stare at him blankly. Not that he can see. It's darker than I thought possible. You don't just show up at the apartment of someone you just met at three in the morning and ask to come in. For all I know, it might not even be Saix. "Can I come in, Cynthia?" Against my better judgment, I let him in. He climbs through my window surprisingly lithely. "Saix. What the hell are you doing here at three in the morning? And why did you wake me up?" I do a really bad job conveying my frustration. The subsequent yawn probably didn't help. I don't even wait for him to answer before I walk off to turn on a light. "I wanted to talk." "At three in the morning?" I'm trying to make myself comfortable on my bed when he begins to speak. "This was when it was convenient for me." His voice is flat and not at all apologetic. When I flip back over to look at him, the first thing I notice about him is his coat. He wears a long black leather coat, unzipped just far enough to expose his collarbone. It has sleeves that are fitted until they reach the elbow and then flare out slightly. The centered zipper extends from the very top of the coat until the coat's hem. It also appears to be hooded, with a decorative chain on either side of the zipper. "Where is your coat from?" That seemed to have surprised him. "…What?" I walk up to him and start looking at it more closely. "Who made your coat? Is it real leather?" I start feeling the end of his sleeve to see for myself. "It is real leather! Do they make it for women?" He yanks his sleeve away from me. "I have no idea." "About who made or if they make it for women?" "Both." "Well, that's disappointing." I return to my bed to recline. When I notice his staring at me, I look down to see that my already short nightgown has ridden up and is exposing pretty much all of my legs. "Excuse me for a second." I walk over to my closet and grab a sweater to put on over my slip. "Anyways, now that you're here, do you want some coffee or something?" "That would be nice." I lead him into my kitchen and start the coffee maker. I sit down at the kitchen table and he does the same. "How did you even find my apartment?" The only light in the kitchen is moonlight seeping in through the window. "I can't really explain it." "What do you mean you can't explain it?" "I just can't." I sigh. His vagueness is bothering me. "Okay, well, what did you want to talk about?" He doesn't say anything. I assume he's trying to find the right words. "Do you remember how when we left, you asked if my smile was real?" "Yes. It wasn't." I can see him furrow his brow. "How could you tell?" "Well, when people smile genuinely, there is a muscle around the eye called the orbicularis oculi that contracts. It gives people smile lines. You didn't have those." "I see." He sits further back in his chair. "I think the coffee's ready." I stand up to get the coffee. My oversized sweater slips off my bare shoulder and I decide to just ignore it until I serve him coffee. "How do you like your coffee?" I reach up to get a mug to pour his coffee in. "With four sugars." "Really?," I say, turning back to smile at him. He nods. "That surprises me." "And why does that surprise you?" "I don't know. You just seem very serious and contemplative. I just sort of assumed you liked you coffee black." This seems to interest him. "What else did you assume about me?" "Just from a first impression?" He nods again. "Well… I assumed that you're intelligent. You seem fairly blunt, so you strike me as a sort of no-nonsense person. I think that you're left-brained, which means that you interpret things with logic rather than feeling. I think that you would be cold, at first." "At first?" I nod at him. I pour the coffee into a large mug and mix four sugars in. When I'm done pouring his drink, I put the coffee pot back under the coffee maker. He notices that I don't pour any for myself. "Are you not going to have any coffee?" "Nah. I'm still sort of clinging to the idea of getting some more sleep before I have to leave for school. I don't really like hot coffee very much anyways. But I love the smell." I hand him his cup. It's sort of funny; the mug was much too large for my hands, but in his it almost seems too small. "Back to the first impressions thing?" He nods while taking a sip. "Like I said earlier, I think that you may be cold, but only at first. I feel certain that you're nice once someone grows on you." This seems to amuse him. "And may I ask why you made that conclusion?" I shrug. "There isn't really any scientific reasoning behind it. I just have a feeling." He laughs very quietly for a moment. "That's interesting." "Am I wrong?" He takes another sip. "Hm?" "Are you not nice? You know you better than I do." This seems to surprise him. For a few seconds, he sits with a pensive look on his face. "I don't even know anymore." This catches me completely off guard. "What do you mean?" He takes another sip of his coffee. Afterwards he hands me the mug. "My coworkers and I have low morals." "How low?" "…Low." "You know that that's not a very good answer." I can see the little flicker of amusement in his amber eyes. He simply shrugs off my complaint. "Well, I never feel any real guilt anymore." "What do you mean you never feel guilt?" He stands up, and I rise with him. "I don't really feel much of anything." "You cannot be serious. You really don't feel?" "I'm afraid I'm perfectly serious." This is a ridiculous notion. Everybody feels something… But his voice is monotonous and clipped; I don't believe he is lying to me. He walks back through my tiny kitchen to my bedroom and stands looking out the window. I'm standing on my tiptoes attempting to see what he's looking at. He looks over his shoulder at me. "…The moon." I give him a questioning look. "I'm looking for the moon," he clarifies. "Oh." He turns his attention back to the sky. "It's a waxing crescent tonight." For the first time, I notice how tired he looks. He has slight bags under his eyes. He turns back around to look at me. "I should go now. Thank you for the coffee." He begins to climb back out of my window. Once again, I am surprised by his grace. "Saix. I'm a psychologist! You can't just tell me that you are emotionless and then leave." At this, he chuckles slightly. "You'll see me again." Immediately afterwards, he vanishes into the night.


	4. IV

Author's note- Hello! Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story; I really appreciate it. If you'd be so kind as to leave a review, that would make me really happy! I'm really interested in what you think & I hope you enjoy it. Thanks again!

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It's a Wednesday today, and it is raining. I love the rain. However, I hate getting out of bed when it's raining. I am not particularly fond of getting out of bed in any weather condition, to be honest, but with the rain gently hitting the rooftops and the unobtrusive grey light seeping in through the window, waking up just seems cruel. It's like the world is inviting you to relax and sleep a while longer. Unfortunately I have school today, so I must pry myself from the sheets and get ready to face the day. I rifle through my closet and grab my herringbone wool skirt with a zipper running down its side, a white button-down, and a black sweater to wear over said button-down, and some black tights. It's sort of on the chilly side today, which puts me in a slightly better mood. I adore cold weather. More specifically, I adore dressing for cold weather. The cold weather brings out cashmere sweaters and wool skirts and tights and coats, all things that I love to wear. After I do all the morning necessities and eat some breakfast, I put on my black leather equestrian-style boots and head out into the hallway of my apartment building.

I should probably get over my hatred for waking up in the morning; it can't be healthy to despise something you do everyday. I admittedly like going to my school. I take lots of interesting classes. Psychology is my focus and my personal favorite, but I'm really happy with all of my other classes. I really like my world history class, and I was so happy that my school offered a mythology class. I've loved mythology since I was a little kid watching Disney's Hercules. I was pretty disappointed when I found out that the actual story of Hercules was not at all like Disney's version, but the interest in mythology stuck. Today we're reading about Helios's son Phaeton and his failed trip across the sky, but when we're done with that, my class will read the story of Perseus, which is a favorite of mine. The only class I have that I genuinely don't like is astronomy. I just can't seem to take to it. I bite my lip just thinking about it. Astronomy is also the only class in which my grades are less-than-stellar, pun not intended. It seems that the good mood I'd tricked myself into by thinking about the classes I liked has gone, and now I'm hailing a cab in the rain with a frown on my face.

Despite my not-so-great mood, today was a good day. The classes went by quickly, and I got good marks on all of the quizzes I got back. My sewing course was even better, though. Today we began working on learning to make tailored separates, and I'm so thrilled to begin working on a suit. For me, jackets have always been the hardest things to make, but I am sort of looking forward to the challenge. I just returned to my small apartment, and the clock I have hanging in the kitchen reads 9:14. The rain has died down to a quiet lull, but I don't think that it's stopping anytime soon. It's been pouring all day. So far the week has been so tiring, especially Monday. Saix's appearance in the middle of the night left me with hardly any sleep, and I've been thinking of him almost constantly. I'm puzzled by his confession. I don't think that he could possibly be emotionless, but he didn't seem to be lying. His voice didn't get any higher, he didn't blush, he didn't appear nervous… Nothing about him indicated that he was lying. My first thought was that he could be a sociopath, but he doesn't have the characteristic glibness and he doesn't seem to be a narcissist. Saix may not smile often and he may speak monotonously and he may not be very expressive, but I can't just write him off as being completely emotionless. I honestly have no idea if I should believe him or not. Maybe I should be less concerned about his possibly having no feelings and more worried about the fact that he knows where I live and could just show up and climb through my window at any time. Actually, scratch that. I should probably be way more worried about the fact that he could climb through my window and I wouldn't mind at all.

Thinking about Saix's lack of empathy and make lack of common sense makes me sigh. I need to hurry up and go to sleep soon. Naturally, I chose to do something unproductive instead of go get ready for bed and maybe get a full eight hours of sleep. I flop down on my white bedspread and stare at the simple grey headboard while listening to the storm. Just above it is a splatter painting with vivid pink, orange, grey, and black splotches. The blanket on the end of my bed is orange, too. My bed takes up most of the space in my bedroom, but I have room for a cube shaped fuchsia side table and a grey wardrobe. I think it's sort of ironic that my room is so bright, especially since practically everything I wear is a neutral or a dark color and my favorite color is dark green. Despite this, I still like my room quite a bit. It's not too bright to feel cozy. I think that the 'antique' white walls mellow it out a bit. After I continue to zone out for a few minutes, I quickly slip out of my clothes and into the shower and proceed to get ready for bed. When I return to my bedroom, it's about a quarter past ten and I'm exhausted. I slide under the covers of my bed and sprawl out, listening to the rain hitting the roof all the while.

When I am woken up, it is not by an annoying tapping noise but rather a tap on the shoulder. I let out a moan of protest and rollover in an attempt to bury myself deeper in the covers. "Cynthia." Upon hearing Saix's voice, I sit up. "Saix, what are you doing here?" He pushes a stray hair out of his eyes and I notice for the first time that he's wearing gloves. "You left your window open." Of course I did. "What makes you think that you can keep showing up here while I'm asleep? I have school tomorrow, and frankly it's kind of creepy." At this, he smirks. "I already told you; this is when it's convenient for me." I let out a little huff of annoyance. "It's not convenient for me!" "Well, are you going to kick me out?" I lazily look at him. He's wearing the kickass leather coat that he came in last time, and I think I can see black leather boots beneath it. "…No." He seems satisfied with that. I suspect he knew that I wouldn't kick him out. "Did it stop raining? I can't hear really hear it anymore." He shakes his head. "It has slowed to a drizzle, but it has not stopped." I try to listen more intently. I can just barely here the sound of the rain. I glance back at Saix to look at his coat more closely. "Why aren't you wet?" He doesn't answer me immediately, so I repeat my question. "Why aren't you wet? Your coat has no water on it." "I was waiting for a while." I throw of the covers and clumsily try to rise from my bed. "So you climb into my house through the window and then proceed to watch me sleep? You're turning out to be quite the creep." He doesn't say anything. "I was just teasing you." I can't be sure, but I think that he nods. "I know," his usual monotone is replaced with something slightly tense. "I'm sorry." I was not expecting him to apologize. "What?" "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to alarm you." Even though his apology is delivered in a flat tone, I don't think it isn't sincere. "It's okay. I really don't mind that much. It sort of gives me something to look forward to." I swear something in his eyes softens after I said that. As I'm fumbling around in the darkness trying to find a light switch, Saix follows closely behind. While I'm trying to navigate around my bed, I trip. Saix is on me in an instant, pulling me up towards him. When he stops yanking me upward, I'm pressed close to him I can feel his shoulders wrapped around mine protectively. "Thanks," I exhale. "I must have tripped over some shoes or something." I'm thankful for the darkness now; I don't want him to see how violently I'm blushing. He says nothing, only nodding again. I continue on my journey to the light switch, more carefully now. When I reach the wiry black lamp on my side table, I can see out the corner of my eye that Saix has yet to move from the spot where he pulled me up from my fall. "So," I begin, whirling around to face him "coffee?"

I walk over to my plain little kitchen to turn on the light and start the coffee maker and then walk right back into my bedroom to retrieve a sweater to put on over my nightgown. This one is probably even slinkier than the one I wore last time he was here. It's silver silk with a keyhole neckline. I grab my favorite oversized black sweater, which I wrap around myself languidly. When I walk back into the kitchen, Saix is already sitting down at the table. "Are you cold?" I shake my head. "Then may I ask why you need the sweater?" I pull out a chair and decide to sit at the table as well. "Well, I just think that it's more… appropriate." "And why is going without a sweater inappropriate?" "Um, I just wanted to cover myself." "Oh, I see," he looks at me with an expression that looks a little amused and the slightest bit suggestive. "Why don't you sleep in less revealing clothes?" "I had no idea you were coming! Besides, I maybe I like sleeping in 'revealing' clothes." He continues to look at me in a way that I feel should probably make me uncomfortable, but I ignore him. His eyes are just unnerving. "Coffee's ready." I pour him some, careful not to forget the four sugars. "Thank you." I nod absentmindedly. I watch him while he sips his drink. I need to gather my thoughts.

"So, Saix," he looks up at me from his mug. "I've been thinking about what you said a lot." He nods to show that he's listening. "I'm still skeptical about it." He puts his blue mug down on the table. "Of course. That's perfectly reasonable." He puts both of his elbows on the table and interlaces his gloved fingers. He leans his chin on his hands. "However," he begins "you should believe me. I'm completely serious." "Oh?" He nods once more. "You see, Cynthia, I am heartless." I roll my eyes at this. "Please. You aren't that bad. You've been kind to me. You've even saved me from certain undesirable situations." He almost smiles at my response. "If you're talking about that man back at the bar, that was nothing." He sips his coffee. "But really, I do not have a heart." "You cannot be serious. How could anybody exist without one?" "I lost it," he states matter-of-factly. I just gawk at him for a few seconds. He has to be kidding, but his facial expression suggests otherwise. "I… how? Why are you still alive?" I had heard stories about people with strong hearts that could lose their hearts to the darkness and become emotionless when I was a little girl. I had ever thought that there was any truth to these stories. "It was consumed." "Consumed?" "Yes." I stared at him in disbelief. "My heart was lost to the darkness, and now I cannot feel." This is insanity. Science has proven that people feel because of their brains, not hearts. Believing him would mean discarding practically everything that I ever learned from psychology. "But people feel because of parts in the brain, not because-" "I know. That's what I believed too, truly. Perhaps I should not have told you this much." He looks down at his hands. He seems to be pondering something. He suddenly snaps his head back up to look at me. "Cynthia. You won't tell anybody, will you?" "Of course not! Anybody I told this to would think I was crazy! I think I'm crazy for even going on with you for this long!" We stare at each other for a few moments before I begin babbling again. "This is crazy. You're crazy. I must be crazy too. I have no real reason to believe you, but you really haven't shown any emotion in what limited contact we've had… Of course this doesn't prove anything…" He watches while I continue to attempt being logical. "Wait. Why are you telling me this?" He gets a thoughtful look on his face. "Hm. That is a very good question. I'm afraid I can't share the answer with you. I've already told you so much more than I've ever told anyone else. But you'll still help me, won't you?" I cross my arms. I have no idea what this will entail, or if I'd even willingly participate. "Help you with what?" "Well, you can feel, as you've just demonstrated, and I can't. Really, all I can do is want. And I want my heart back. So since I don't have one, I was hoping you'd be so kind as to share what it's like with me." His voice is smooth, clipped; and his countenance is as serious as ever. My own curiosity is getting the best of me. I need to learn more about him. He may not have emotions, but he has still kept a personality, and a rather interesting one at that. "Alright." He smiles a charming pseudo-smile. "Excellent. Now, go get some sleep. After all, you have school tomorrow." With that, he is gone.


	5. V

Author's Note: First of all, I want to apologize for not updating for two months! I'm so sorry! I'd also like to thank all of you for even reading my story. I really appreciate it. I'd appreciate it even more if you'd be so kind as to leave a review! I'd love to know what you think about it. Thank you! I hope you enjoy my writing. Oh, and of course I don't own Kingdom Hearts. That's all.

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I find that school is much more tiring now that I've talked to Saix. He's sort of thrown me off. I wake up at random times in the night, whether he's there or not, and I can't help but think about what he has said to me. He has practically gone out and told me what his purpose for coming in the middle of the night 'to talk' and yet I still cannot help but wonder why. Why did he decide to probe me for answers? Was it because I approached him first? Am I just a convenience for him? Even if he is using me, is it really so bad? Really, I don't even know if I care. The thought of being used not bothering me is so strange. Really, is it so bad if no one is getting hurt? The steam of the shower is swirling around the bathroom while I step out of the shower and proceed to get ready for bed. Not that I'll sleep that much. It's more of a nap, really. I'm expecting Saix tonight.

I'm woken by the sound of him pacing, albeit quietly, around in my room. I sit up in bed and throw my blanket off. At this point he takes notice of me. "Cynthia." I unsteadily rise and he walks closer. I suppose he suspects I could fall, which, given our brief history of me being clumsy, doesn't seem that unreasonable. I laugh a little at his cautiousness. "Saix, I can get out of bed. Don't worry." He says nothing, but I notice that he does back up a step or so. I'm still groggy from just waking up, but after getting up to see him in the middle of the night a few times I don't really mind very much. "So," I begin as I push my hair over to my other shoulder so I can see him more clearly. "Coffee?"

I walk into the kitchen and start the coffee maker as usual. When I turn back around, I find him not sitting at the table, but staring at the moon. Only a sliver of moonlight is visible because of Saix standing in front of the window. "Still staring at the moon?" He says nothing, as usual, and gives a nod. I stride over to the window to take a look at it myself. "I can't even see it." He points to it. Apparently it was just concealed by some clouds. "The moon looks pretty tonight. I guess it looks pretty every night, though." I'm almost surprised when I hear him responding. When it comes to the moon, he usually just zones out and nods or something. "It does." After agreeing with me, he walks back over to the table and sits down. I follow. It's a little bit warmer towards the center of the room.

After I sit down in the chair opposite him, he begins to question me. "So, Cynthia, do you remember out last discussion?" "Of course I do. You told me you have no heart, and I struggled to believe you." He laces his gloved fingers together. "Well. Do you believe me now?" Ugh. I've been trying to decide non-stop since he told me. "I'm still skeptical." He closes his eyes for a moment, as if he's mildly annoyed. "Yes, well, even if you don't believe me, will you still…" he trails off, like he's looking for the right phrase. "Discuss certain matters with me?" I've been dreading this conversation. "If by certain matters you mean emotions, then sure." I must not sound very enthusiastic, because I can tell by his facial expression that I didn't tell him what he wanted to hear. "Why the hesitancy? It's just conversing." "Saix, have you not considered how hard it would be to tell someone without emotions what it's like to feel? It would be like trying to tell a blind person about colors." I can tell that the coffee is about ready. I don't even wait for him to respond before I get up to go get it.

When I return, I hand him his mug and though he says thank you politely, he still looks displeased with me. "Saix. I'll still talk to you. I just don't really know how much I can help you, you know? It's weird for me to just sit and talk to someone about my feelings for an extended period of time." He leans down and rests his head on his fingers. "Is it? How so?" I can't help but laugh at this. "You know, you aren't very sneaky," I say. He says nothing, just sits there and looks the slightest bit amused. "I don't know. I prefer to listen to others than talk about my own feelings. I often just feel like I'm boring them, and for some reason I really detest the idea of being over-emotional." Before he begins to speak, he unlaces his fingers and sits up. "Why do you feel like you are boring them? Are your feelings inferior and less interesting than those of your friends?" I'm a bit taken aback by his question. "I mean, no… I just…" Saix interrupts me. "You shouldn't think your feelings are inferior to any other's." "I don't. Really, I don't. I just don't like talking about them for two hours with everyone. I don't really have anything to be sad about, you know? I don't think anyone wants to hear a sob story." Apparently this is an adequate response. He nods at me, and doesn't question me about it anymore. "So, back on to the subject of emotions, I think you should know that I'm not unfamiliar with them entirely. I simply lost them with my heart." At this, I sigh. "Why are you just not telling people these things? I mean, really. Almost every other thing you say completely contradicts what science has supposedly proved. It's just… Well, now I'm conflicted."

He looks at me so intensely I feel like I'm being scrutinized. "I see. So I imagine you are frustrated?" "I am. I am frustrated. I think I'll just go on believing both and assume you're some special case that defies all logic," I let out in a huff. I really wish he could smile, or laugh, or anything. I can see the slightest amount amusement on his face. It's sort of saddening to see it all repressed. "I understand. How was your day?" I laugh at the abrupt change in our conversation. "So we go from logic-defying confessions to small talk?" Again the little flicker of humor flashes over his features. "I suppose we do."

He takes a few more sips of his coffee. He's kept his gloves on for whatever reason. "Are you really interested? It was pretty normal. I had to get up way too early for school and then after being at school for forever-and-a-half I had to go right back to my advanced sewing course and continue to learn stuff. It's just too busy for my taste. I'm sleep deprived." He's a good listener. I can tell he's really taking in everything I say. "So, you don't like being busy?" "Oh, god. Does anyone?" "Some cope with it better than others," he replies. "I really don't like being busy. This might sound horrible, but I honestly think that I would be content with just doing nothing. I'd sleep all day and do whatever little thing I'd want whenever." I'm tired, so I decide to put my arms on the table and rest my head on them. At least I'm a little bit warmer in my sweatpants than I am in the little slips I usually sleep in. "That's interesting. I was always just the opposite."

I roll my eyes. "I can't believe anyone would actually want to be busy. I like being able to decide what to do spontaneously." He stares into his cup of coffee. "Why do you dislike busyness? What does it make you feel?" I don't really know how to express my dislike for a full schedule, so I take a moment to think it through. "I just feel stressed. I don't like adhering to schedules. I feel restricted, and for some reason that's always just really bothered me. I can't really tell you what emotion that is, I guess. I think I'd just say frustration." He nods. I can see he's still wearing his gloves. "Hey, Saix? Why are you still wearing your gloves? Are you cold or something?" He shrugs. It seems uncharacteristic of him. "I mean, you can take them off if you want to. The same goes for your coat. I know from experience how uncomfortably warm leather can get." He tenses up slightly for a little bit, and it looks a bit like he's trying to decide if it's appropriate for him to remove his coat or not. I think it's an awesome coat, but I really don't think I could stand to wear it for very long at all. He unzips it and pulls it off of his shoulders, then removes his gloves.

I'm so thankful that we never bothered to turn on the light. I'm staring at his torso pretty intently. He has strong, masculine shoulders and what looks to be a pretty well defined chest. After examining him for a few more seconds, I can pretty much swear he is the archetype for male beauty. Well, aside from the long blue hair and huge X between his eyes. He wears a simple gray t-shirt and I can tell that whatever pants he's wearing are black. This admittedly makes me really happy. I can't really logically explain why. I think that maybe I'm just thrilled that he's not poorly dressed. I don't repress my slight smile. I look back up into his eyes. It occurs to me then that he's probably been aware of my admiring him this entire time. Truthfully, I don't even really care anymore.

"Where did we leave off?" I inquire. "You were telling me that having a planned schedule makes you frustrated because of the lack of freedom." He lifts the coffee cup up to his mouth to take a sip. I look at his newly un-gloved hands. He has another distinctive scar running down the length of his ring finger and hand. It's more jagged than the one on his face, and it's slightly more faded. I conclude that it's older than the scar he bears on his forehead. "Right. Is that all you wanted to know? I'm sorry. I've done a horrible job providing insight into feelings tonight." I let out a yawn. "It's fine. Anything you want to talk about that you feel strongly about would be insightful, I suppose."

"Alright. Let's talk about you." He actually looks slightly surprised by this suggestion. "You feel strongly about me?" Apparently he isn't too surprised. He keeps his calm, authoritative tone. "No. But I do think that you're interesting." "I'm flattered." I really can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not, as his tone of voice doesn't change at all, but I smile anyways. I doubt he's cracking a joke. "It sort of upsets me that you can't smile or laugh or anything. Every now and then, I think that for a second you look slightly happy or amused. I find it sort of sad that you repress it every time. Can you find things funny without your heart?" "You can recognize things as humorous without a heart. But it's nearly impossible to genuinely laugh."

"I'm sorry." I sit up. I look him straight in the eyes before I begin to speak again. "I'm genuinely sorry that you cannot smile, or even laugh without great difficulty. I can't even imagine how horrible it would be to go through life feeling nothing at all." I look back down again. "I'm also sorry that I couldn't help you remember any of what it means to be happy tonight. I promise I'll try to tell you more next time." We just sort of sit and stare at each other for a while. He breaks the silence when he gets up to leave. "Thank you." All I remember before collapsing into my bed is that I distinctly don't recall him climbing out my window before he's gone and that I can hear rain falling softly.


End file.
